Page 147 - The Love Hypothesis

“Can you clarify a couple of things for me?” he asked, turning his laptop

toward her and pointing at one of the figures she’d sent. “To make sure I
understand your protocols correctly.”
When Adam came back twenty minutes later, hair damp and wearing

one of his ten million black Henleys that were all a tiny bit different and yet
still managed to fit him in the most irritatingly perfect way, she was just

wrapping up an explanation of her RNA analyses. Tom was taking notes on
his laptop.

“Whenever you guys are done, I can give you a ride back to campus,
Olive,” Adam offered. “I need to drive in, anyway.”

“We’re done,” Tom said, still typing. “She’s all yours.”
Oh. Olive nodded and gingerly stood up. Tom hadn’t given her an
answer yet. He’d asked lots of interesting, smart questions about her

project, but he hadn’t told her whether he wanted to work with her next
year. Did it mean that the answer was a no, but he’d rather not communicate

it to Olive in her “boyfriend’s” home? What if he’d never really thought
that her work was worth funding? What if he’d just been faking it because

Adam was his friend? Adam had said that Tom wasn’t like that, but what if
he’d been wrong and now—

“You ready to go?” Adam asked. She grabbed her backpack, trying to
collect herself. She was fine. This was fine. She could cry about this later.
“Sure.” She rocked once on her heels, giving Tom one last look. Sadly,

he seemed taken with his laptop. “Bye, Tom. It was nice to meet you. Have
a safe trip home.”

“Likewise,” he said, not even glancing at her. “I had lots of interesting
conversations.”

“Yeah.” It must have been the section on genome-based prognostics, she
thought, following Adam out of the room. She’d suspected it was too weak,

but she’d been stupid and she’d sent the report anyway. Stupid, stupid,
stupid. She should have beefed it up. The most important thing now was to
avoid crying until she was—

“And, Olive,” Tom added.
She paused under the doorframe and looked back at him. “Yes?”